After watching Big Stone Gap (2014), a less than memorable romantic comedy about a pharmacy owner who falls in love with a Virginia coal miner in Appalachia, I yearned for more authentic representations of my mountain home. B.J. Gudmundsson’s Rise Up! West Virginia (2007) offers a glimpse.
Rise Up! West Virginia presents new, radical
arguments against Mountaintop Removal Mining. The film demands alternative
energy sources to meet sustainable development goals and effectively maintains
its rhetoric against MTR. Even though the film and its subjects strive for and
build their arguments on the need for wider distribution of fair use
commodities, they also argue against coalmining in general and maintain their
position against MTR and corporate coalmining throughout the films. The fact
that a large percentage of America’s power is coal generated does not sway them from
their demand for new forms of less destructive
energy production and consumption.
Rise Up! West Virginia presents George Daughtery, a
West Virginia attorney, arguing, “coal mining hasn’t saved the state yet” by
effectively juxtaposing images of the pristine mountains that may become a
memory with the hell MTR leaves in its wake. Judy Bonds’ narration accompanies
pristine images of West Virginia mountains that provide, as Bonds explains, the
“sense of place [that] pulls at you” and “makes Appalachians who they are.”
With authentic Appalachian music performed by West Virginia musicians, the film
highlights this need for a sense of place, even providing a “Bambi shot” of a
doe in a hardwood forest. The pure scene is contrasted with shots of mammoth
blasting destroying a mountain in Boone County, so, as the film states, the
mountain’s “guts are blown out” in a “manmade destruction.” The film also sets
up Appalachians as victims like the mountains, both of whom are exploited by
corporate mining companies with progressive views of resource exploitation. The
film argues that their state has been turned into a Third World colony and will
be abandoned after all the coal is brutally extracted.
After this opening that establishes the film’s conflict, a
focus on “sustainable energy and jobs” is reinforced with a musical celebration
of the land that remains at the Mountain Keepers Music Festival with Larry
Gibson, a landowner surrounded by MTR because he refused to sell his land or
mineral rights. The festival is meant to provide a voice for the anti-MTR
movement and to support alternative and sustainable energy sources that will
provide jobs for the region. These anti-MTR protesters align with the pristine
nature that could become a memory, like the fish in hollers, thousands of acres
of virgin forest, and sandstone rocks now lost because of MTR.
Although this film documents jobs lost because of the move
to MTR, arguments against coalmining chiefly rely on its environmental
consequences: timber lost to clear cutting, sludge dams breaking and destroying
towns and water sources, valley fills polluting wells and clogging up rivers
and streams, blasting not only decapitating mountains but covering whole towns
with toxic coal dust, even after covering a processing plant with a dome.
And the coalmining companies, especially Massey, are
established as the culprits for this destruction to the land and people of West
Virginia. A child in the film explains, “These coal mines are making us kids
sick,” while explaining Massey’s attempts to expand a coal preparation plant
near a school. The government, too, is held responsible for ongoing
destruction, since they overturn stays on permits and allow MTR and its
consequences to continue.
The film’s ending maintains both the bifurcation between the
big guys—corporate miners—and the little guys—citizens of West Virginia. But it
also continues its argument for sustainable development. Back at the music
festival protestors argue, “Turn off electric gadgets and demand renewable
energy.” And they offer suggestions for winning the war against MTR. According
to the film, Appalachians should elect responsible people to public office and
think of their neighbors. They should make phone calls and write letters. In a
nod back toward nostalgia, the film ends with another Bambi shot in a pristine forest
and an exclamation: “She’s worth more than all the power in the world,” so
“Rise Up! West Virginia,” the film asserts, providing a sense of hope that
moves beyond the seemingly hopeless context established in other anti-MTR
documentaries. With viable solutions to not only MTR but also coalmining and
our reliance on coal for our electricity, hope is preserved.